<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Soul of Fire by Cogentranting</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708270">A Soul of Fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cogentranting/pseuds/Cogentranting'>Cogentranting</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon a Time (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:40:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cogentranting/pseuds/Cogentranting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A character study of Killian Jones, written during season 5.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Soul of Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="post-content">
  <p></p>
  <div class="body-text">
    <p>“<em>Killian has struggled with darkness his whole life</em>” Liam said. But that wasn’t quite right. Oh, it was a part of the struggle, of course. But merely one form Killian’s particular struggle took. Killian didn’t struggle with darkness; he struggled with the maelstrom of his own mind. What Liam and many others never understood, was that Killian felt things with his entire being, with a soul of fire. </p>
    <p>No one understood the depth of emotion lying behind every impetuous action, every sharp word, every brilliant smile. No one understood the fact that Killian simply felt <em>more</em> than they did. They criticized his lack of self-control without realizing that moderating the sparks in their minds was entirely incomparable to taming the firestorm in him. </p>
    <p>It was there from the beginning, this nature of his. But in the beginning it wasn’t a problem. Not with Brennan and Liam watching over him. But when Brennan left, when the brothers were left alone, when Killian’s mind raged with the wounds of abandonment, when they entered a life of servitude, then it became Killian’s personal struggle. Sailors with dead eyes and bowed backs don’t like young boys who spark and blaze with the passions of life. Liam begged Killian to control the fire that he knew he could not. He could not hold back the anger at injustice which put him into confrontation with the crew, he could not hold back the boldness that drew the Captain’s dark eye, and he could not hold back joys that transformed him in those rare moments of happiness borne from love of the sea and his brother. Good or bad, the fire raged inside him and flamed in blue eyes. </p>
    <p>And no matter what form it took, it brought beatings. Beatings from a Captain that punished independence and boldness. And beatings from a dead-eyed crew filled with resentment. So Killian found a way to quell the fire. He found a flask. A splash of rum to numb the wounds of abandonment. A splash of rum to dull the anger of injustice. A splash of rum to ease the ache of loneliness. A splash of rum to celebrate, just so he wouldn’t feel too much. A splash of rum to keep down the flames inside of him. </p>
    <p>But he was young. Too young to strike a balance. Too young to know when enough was enough. Too young to control that particular demon. So it controlled him. And through it the crew controlled him. And as the years went by it became a relentless back and forth- slave to his fire and the pain it caused when the rum ran dry- slave to the rum and the pain it caused when the fire died down. And through rum and fire, he cost Liam his freedom. </p>
    <p>The brothers received a second chance, a new life in the Navy. Killian swore to himself that it would be different. He would find a way to control his fire without the rum. And he did. He found rules and order which held him firmly in place. He learned to beat down his fire with a strict drumbeat, to smother it with a pressed uniform. He was sober, responsible, respectable, in control. And at such a small price. All it cost him was his boldness and his confidence. His instincts were born from the fire so they couldn’t be trusted. Better to listen to Liam. Better to follow orders. So for the first time he learned obedience, hand-in-hand with uncertainty and insecurity. </p>
    <p>When Liam died, Killian felt the full force of the fire rage against that cruel and corrupt king. But he knew there was other blame as well. His instincts had screamed at him, raged at him, burned him and told him to trust the boy over the king. He knew. But he had butchered his instincts to long, had locked them up too tight. The fire could not burn freely, and so Liam had died. </p>
    <p>So Killian set the fire loose. As a pirate he knew for the first time what it meant to be utterly free. At the edge of his mind he knew that the force of his fire burned others. But the intoxicating wind of freedom fanned the flames and he didn’t care. Especially not when Milah joined him and  he learned what it was liek to love and he learned how brightly the fire could burn Then when he met the Crocodile- when he lost his hand and lost Milah- he learned just how terrible the fire could be. The rage, the hatred, the pain of loss burned inside him as nothing had before. It consumed him and scorched the earth he walked on. The fire he felt became defined by destruction. It didn’t matter who it destroyed- his enemies, his crew, himself- so long as it eventually devoured the Crocodile. He could bear the fire. All he needed was a flask. A splash of rum when memories of Milah singed him. A splash of rum when a detestable alliance must be struck. A splash of rum when hatred of the Crocodile burned so bright that it threatened to obliterate his thoughts. A splash of rum when he thought of what Liam would say if he were here now. A splash of rum to push down the flames. </p>
    <p>In Neverland he needed the rum more than he had since he was a boy in servitude. Because he couldn’t let the fire run rampant. Not if he wanted to help Bae’s son. Not if he wanted to help Swan. But it was difficult. Because there was plenty to stoke the fire: his hatred of this place; the cries of the lost boys ringing in his ears; the alliance with the Crocodile; the loss of Bae once more; the Prince’s loathing; and Swan. That last one most of all he could not let burn. Couldn’t admit to it for a thousand different reasons. But, oh, the kiss made it worse. </p>
    <p>When the curse took him away from her, back to the Enchanted Forest, he thought it would be better. But the fire burned brighter than ever as he struggled against having lost something he never had. When he found her again and brought her home, he thought it would be better. But the fire burned even brighter and he had even greater need to control it because she did not want what he had to offer. So another splash of rum. Another flask. </p>
    <p>When Emma kissed him again, when she let him in, when they became ‘’we”, he began to see the fire differently. She had the fire too. She didn’t need to quench it with rum, or beat it down or smother it. Her fire was her strength. Perhaps his could be too. And he learned to embrace the fire in his soul. He accepted it and felt he was a hero. When Emma took on the Darkness, his fire became a light to guide her. </p>
    <p>But of course that strength couldn’t stay. That balance couldn’t be maintained. When the Darkness covered his gaze he saw things differently. He had never really been free. He had never let the fire loose, because of course the fire could not be that thing of light and warmth he had harbored since bringing Emma home. That wasn’t his fire at all. His fire was the thing that scorched and burned and desolated. The Darkness whispered in his ear, “<em>how dare you deny your hate. How dare you deny your anger. How dare you deny your beautiful destruction.</em>” </p>
    <p>He listened and he burned and destroyed. Because the fire had always been greater than him. </p>
    <p>When Killian saw Emma in pain, her family in danger, he began to remember his true self. He began to feel the fire of warmth and love and light and trust. The light of it pierced the Darkness and he defied it. The burst of flame and sparks when he died was dazzling. When Emma came to rescue him, the fire of light and warmth relit. When she convinced him that he was worth rescuing it burned steadier. When he let her go home without him and when he worked to help her from beyond the grave the fire glowed stronger and brighter than ever before. And when he walked into the light it was with a newfound sense of unity. The fire was him, his weakness, his strength, his being, his heroism, his soul. He no longer feared it. It no longer ravaged and destroyed. It was simply him. And in that moment he returned to earth, to Emma, to life. </p>
    <p>Because of course the man with the fire soul was not a man at all. He was a phoenix. </p>
  </div>
</div>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>